Refuse to choose!

The Move

Sun, 13 Jan 2008 16:16:03 GMT

The pain journal:

Let me make this brief. I was without a place after my Dom abandoned me, and so I stayed at a coworker’s place who quickly became my play partner and lover. This is a mistake as I was relying on him for shelter. It was brief and beautiful and as soon as I found a place of my own it was over. Then I was alone for some time having an overall glorious time. I made new friends and spent a lot of time lazing about in my artsy little studio drinking tea and talking about Love with new loved ones.

Meanwhile I was playing with the boi occasionally and he served as my Dom, but only during scene and not 24/7. The play was better than ever as there was no love to distract us from our goals. No sympathy got in his way when he administered pain, and I felt as if I were floating around in a strange headspace, drugged up on my body’s own pain killers. A very strange and dreamy time. I could not care for him again and he became only a Dom and not a lover.

I received an acceptance letter from a company in Japan, and so I prepared for the move. Meanwhile I took on a new lover rather inconveniently. The new lover is not a Dom. He is not sadistic. He is a gentle soul without a cruel streak and yet I still find him thrilling. I never thought I could be with someone who wasn’t sadistic, but I found there are other ways of reaching such ecstatic heights or depths if you’d rather. Dearest slaves and pets, I deeply respect your lifestyle. I am not one of you anymore, not a slave, not a pet.

I am in Japan now, and life is beautiful. The gentleman will be coming soon. I eagerly wait his arrival.

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 22:38:54 GMT

I ended up falling fast into a new relationship. And it ended just as fast. I am starting to see serious knots in my psyche, in my soul. I am tired of running to men for shelter. I've been so afraid to think or feel that I'd do anything short of killing myself. I am not going to run away from myself anymore. I am going to begin moving in, facing the void and filling it.

sigh

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 06:40:06 GMT

My masochism left me for a short while suffering through the doldrums of life. Everything seemed to be painfully unaesthetic. The city was looking ugly to me. The litter, transients, and raging schizophrenics seemed so poorly colored. My life was looking hopelessly stagnant. I was in one of my troughs. I have come to learn to accept and ride them out as they come. I know I wasn’t exciting in bed or even wanting to go to bed with my lover, but I thought he’d wait it out and ride it out with me.

I spent one long night awake in bed worrying about my lover whether he was dead. When I found out he was alive, I was so overjoyed unfaithfulness seemed to be a minor infraction. I brought him a pink rose, hugged him, called him my darling, tried to kiss him but he wouldn’t have me. He told me he preferred her. That he didn’t love me the same way he used to, that he loved me differently. I suppose he meant that his body didn’t shiver at my touch, and he did not feel a fountain of exploding butterflies in his chest anymore. And I suppose he cares, for the sake of his own self-indulgent conscience, whether I am dead or alive and in this way he loves me. I suppose he expects me to slit my wrists and send him the photos or something equally crazy. Honestly that is what I expected out of myself. But no such insanity has ensued. Instead I feel strong. I didn’t realize until now how much I needed to be alone. I was forgetting myself.

I am glad that I loved longer. It is easier that way. I am comfortable with being unrequited. It just feels right. Loving makes you human whether or not it’s returned. And even though I don’t have him, I have had so many other arms holding me that I can’t feel alone. In fact, strange as it seems, I have never felt so loved.

Stray

Thu, 31 May 2007 22:31:09 GMT

Pet was abandoned. Now she has no home.

Words=Trapped

Mon, 14 May 2007 17:23:01 GMT

I hate feeling claustrophobic. I’ve been raised to feel trapped by words like “Christian” and now I even feel trapped such formless supposedly liberating terms such as “bisexual,” “switch,” and “kink”—noncommittal words that are supposed to make one feel free. I swear. I could be naked and alone in the middle of a field, and I still would feel trapped.

But…

Just because I have a vagina it doesn’t mean I’m feminine. Also, Just because I don’t often wear make up or a dress doesn’t mean my right to femininity is dissolving.

If my boyfriend wants to wear makeup it doesn’t make him a closeted gay. (Yes! Bisexual men exist!)

And no! Being a bisexual does not mean you are looking for threesomes.

I don’t have to like or agree with everything in the BDSM community in order to consider myself sexually liberated.

I can delete any one of those four letters, and I can add any friggin’ letters I want. For example I like BMTFQR.

In conclusion

Tue, 17 Apr 2007 21:02:48 GMT

I thought about deleting this journal today. It’s not really serving the purpose I intended. I wanted to connect to the BDSM community, and learn more about this kind of kink and ultimately better my sex life. I also secretly intended to tell my partner everything I can’t say to his face via journal. This is too much to expect from a blog. Anyway, as it turns out I am much more guarded when I write. I’m much more honest in person especially when I’ve had a few drinks and am suffering from sleep deprivation. Ah yes, words come out then that I never even knew were floating around in my subconscious. It’s like dreaming.

I can’t create the persona I want. I don’t want to be a slave. I don’t want to be a pet. Never-the-less I am drawn to pet/slave type journals and information. It is this lifestyle that interests me most, and yet I DON’T WANT IT! I don’t want to lose myself. I read and try to relate, and I can relate but I don’t feel the joyful side of submission only the angst. I would like to be more dominating, but I don’t like how most women dominate men. It’s the subtleties that I don’t like. I want to be a gentleman, the knight in shining armor. I want someone to sink into my arms, trusting me, and I want to trust myself. I want to be the solid strength. I wanted to be grounded enough so that I can blindfold him, and he will not cringe because he knows I would never make a mistake. I want to be all-powerful. I want control.

And when I sub, I don’t like cringing and whining. One can submit with strength, without humiliation. There is a certain masculinity in just gritting your teeth and taking it (like a man). Plus, I often feel this push-pull of power when we play well. It’s like playing a chess game. Sure I lose most of the time, but sometimes I don’t. I can compete, and I like that about myself. It’s important for me to remember that it’s just a game and should always be fun. I don’t ever want to take this too seriously.

Disclaimer! I know, I know for many of you kinksters this is a very serious lifestyle with set dynamics that work well for you. I am not judging you. If it works, it works. I am not saying this is how it should be for everyone. I am speaking merely for myself here. This is what I need—not to submit when I’m being topped, not to be cruel when I’m topping. Maybe I don't feel comfortable because I am also gender-queer. Where are all the gender-queer switches? I guess that's a little too specific to ask for.

Tired

Sat, 14 Apr 2007 06:34:09 GMT

Ah, man. I am feeling so pain-horny after watching Kaya’s boob nailing video. I really having to go to bed soon or I’m going to be dealing with sleep deprivation tomorrow. I work on a boat, and I have to get up before the [ass]crack of dawn. You know that sensuous feeling you get when you are so tired every nerve is overworking itself, and a soft breeze, a soft sound, or just being still feels unbearably pleasurable? Or maybe that’s just me. Well, anyway, at least I have that to look forward to. God, I love my job.

Thu, 29 Mar 2007 19:06:25 GMT

So me and my partner finally dipped our dirty little hands into the world of humiliation, my humiliation more specifically. This is something I had decided a long time ago would be unhealthy for me, this being made to feel like shit in bed. But it is oh-so-addictive and satisfying to be called nasty names "slutty little bitch" and such. I know even vanilla couples do this. God, I'm such a prude about somethings. For kicks he called my a "fat cow" in front of my friends when we all went out for drinks the other night. It some a sort of exhibitionist humiliation and I liked that too although I worry about my friends thinking he's truly an asshole.

Spanking

Wed, 28 Feb 2007 19:50:59 GMT

So I looked at 28 pages of vintage spanking, most Betty Page. I love the shape of vintage models. They seem to have been able to put on fat like greek goddesses back then. For some reason their curves seemed to be shaped differently.

I go my first official spanking since the boy's return. With a hairbrush, a hand, and then the bamboo. I had pretty marks, and was well satisfied to be back into the old spankity spank again. Also, another fun thing are dish gloves--those heavy yellow ones with ridges. The chemicals made my vagina burn after, but it was worth it and the burning went away in a day or so. Being spanked with those almost made me cry.

Birth Control

Tue, 20 Feb 2007 23:58:17 GMT

So here's the issue. My s.o. is allergic to latex, but latex condoms have been our primary means of birth control in the past. It was working out nicely for me, but he would feel itchy and uncomfortable if he left the condom on too long after sex or if we had sex several times in one day. I've tried hormonal birth control twice. But I can only last for about a month of that stuff before giving it up. It reduces my libido down to zero. Also, it makes it hard for me to get wet. And it causes spotting. I just don't like the idea of putting hormones in my body anyway. I am thinking about an alternative--ParaGard T 380A. It is a copper Intrauterine Device. The copper is the contraceptive, not hormones. The side effects are a heavier menstrual cycle and it is easier to catch an STD if you have multiple sex partners. I'm monogaomous, so I'm not worried about that. I am not excited about having heavier periods (with more cramping). Damn it! I know there are polyurethane condoms, but I don't trust those because of breakage. I would end up having to take Plan B a lot after every break and that I know is bad for my body. Sometimes I wish I was naturally sterile. If anyone has an IUD, please tell me if it has worked for you.

Anniversary

Mon, 12 Feb 2007 05:35:35 GMT

It’s our two-year anniversary today. I didn’t even know it until he breathily said “happy anniversary” in his oh-so-in-love voice of his, the tone he saves for intimate conversations. I felt guilty for not knowing. Ah well. Feeling romantic.

List

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 23:56:00 GMT

I want to buy the right thing the first time. Toy suggestions welcome. Aesthetics are as important as function. I am more of a sensation slut than a pain slut. I mean, I love pain, but it is just one of many physical sensations. I also enjoy tickling sensations, cold/hot sensations, different textures. My favorite sensation is actually cold metal against hot sweaty skin. It is both sinister and heavenly. What I'd really like is a metal surgical table in a chilled basement with lots of evil little latches, locks, and leather straps. I think this will have to be fantasy unless I come upon some kind of an inheritance, but you never know. Is there a way to make this happen that I'm just not seeing?

1. Corset
2. Crop
3. Metal Nipple Clamps
4. Strap on harness
5. Classes at the Wet Spot
6. Rubber panties
7. Costume(s)
8. Metal tools
9. Spreader
10. Headboard

Random Ramblings

Thu, 08 Feb 2007 01:13:52 GMT

What is with my love affair with the muck of the world? The crack whores, the morbidly obese, the suicidal sad, the sadistic rapists, the insane homeless. I love to listen to their stories. I love to relate to the supposedly unrelatable. I think we are all the same, and when the wretched woman with blood running down her neck clings to my arm and screams “I need to get high,” I see that I am just a drug addiction away from becoming this woman. We separate the undesirables with words like “monster.” I have my own wretchedness to contend with. Of course it’s convenient that most of it is hidden in the folds of my brain, but I’m telling you now—it’s there. I have and will continue to contribute to the muck of the world. But that isn’t all I have to give.

Well anyway, today was a beautiful day, relaxing. I spend most of it thinking of the boy and his fast approaching return. We have such a good relationship—it’s really hard to dig around for the filth. He cares about me so much that I can’t help but reciprocate. I don’t know where this wellspring of tenderness comes from. His cock? If so, then fine, I’ll take it. I love to take it.

When he comes home I want to do a complicated switch scene—one of those scenes we were told not to do in the guidebooks to healthy sex. I want to start out on top of him in dominatrix mode with my black thigh high boots and such, and then allow him to switch in the middle of the scene whenever he’s moved to do so. I am so competitive with him. What’s beautiful is that I love to lose as much as I love to win…almost. My boy wrestled in high school and some of the sexiest memories I have are trying to pin him to the mat in the gym, and him (carefully) throwing me on my back.

Darling Boi

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 09:31:55 GMT

Whenever I talk about my darling (if people let me) I get giddy. Sometimes I jokingly bitch about him, but I like to think I do it lovingly. And sometimes there are things that I really need to get off my chest, or I need to get some objective feedback—like his deceptive behavior regarding pot. If he’d lie about whether or not he’s smoking pot would he lie about anything? I am willing to risk a broken heart but not AIDS. I know it’s smart to get STD tested even if you are in (what you think to be) a monogamous relationship, but it’s so unromantic to say “I can’t take your word for it; please bring me the paperwork.” This lack of trust is a little troublesome, but somehow it doesn’t affect our play negatively. He says everyone is cheating in the military, married men most of all. This in turn makes me believe I might be cheating. I know that when he sees me and the unobstructed desire I have for him, these fears will be put to rest.

And now I will plot some pain for my budding masochist. He’s quite the little bitch, and I need to take things slowly lest he get gun shy. Or maybe it’s more of a matter of catering to his pain-needs. He prefers deep bludgeoning pain over sharp pain. It’s the opposite for me, and as a switch it is my instinct to top how I’d like to be topped, but really I can’t expect him to be me. Before the pain, I might stick to verbal dominance. Another stark contrast is that he enjoys the service part of submission meaning he enjoys completing every day tasks for me such as cooking me dinner, washing my body etc. I think he might like to be my 24/7 slave toy, but I can’t let him. I enjoy subbing too much to let him have all the fun.

Warning! Opinions below!

Tue, 06 Feb 2007 20:42:48 GMT

I went out last night and had a good long talk with a friend of mine. He suggested this ten week spiritual fasting program. It’s not connected to any particular religion although it has a strong feel of Buddhism to it. Buddhism doesn’t worry me as much as other religions. I think it’s more of a philosophy than a religion. It doesn’t denounce other truths. I don’t believe in reincarnation, and I am not trying to become a Buddha. But I like what they say about people being (for the most part) innately good. That is refreshing after two decades of being told I was born into a Satanic world with a dark soul. I still believe elements of Christian truth as well. For example, I love the creative personality of God. Because I am an artist of course the idea of a Divine Creator does a little something for my ego. When we create poetry, paintings, babies, new inventions, new building structures we are mimicking God. When I look at the beauty of human anatomy or the constellations I wax romantic and I am moved to believe in intelligent design. I don’t think intelligent design competes with evolution. Who’s to say evolution isn’t part of that intelligent design. I don’t understand Christians who feel threatened by evolution. The Christian creation story (Adam/Eve) seems like it could very well be symbolism—another one of the many parables in the Bible. So humans were created to take care of the planet. I’ll buy that. Since we have had such a huge impact on our planet, I think this is a good lesson to keep in mind. The responsibility is ours. Humans fucked up a long time ago and created a kind of disharmony between themselves and God. I believe that too. I know I’ve personally fucked up and now suffer disharmony. I’m sure that humans have been fucking up since our beginning. It’s part of being an intelligent animal. We are capable of enormous acts of good and enormous acts of well, I hate this word, but evil.

Fit

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 06:09:22 GMT

Today somebody poked me in the belly and said "your tummy is soft." This was highly offensive as a) I am female and b) It hasn't always been soft. I'm in my early twenties and I'm coming out of my "I'm always going to have a great body no matter how many danishes I eat" stage. As a result of my manly pride I flexed and had him poke it again. But FUCK! Am I getting soft? Yes. I want a hard body. I want muscles and sinew to impress my boi when I dominate him. I want to surprise him with my strength. I want to be decent competition when we arm wrestle. I want this more than most girls want pristine breasts. I think I'd give up my breasts for pecs.

I was lifting weights with a friend and it was so embarrassing. I was working a machine and had it set on the lowest weight and still could not lift it. She had to help me. She was spotting me as I lifted about 20lbs. I HATE FEELING SO WEAK. I didn't feel this way until I was raped. I used to feel physically strong. I used to think that guys being stronger than girls was a society induced myth. But by god, those guys are bred strong. Now when I see a large man my first thought is usually, "I wouldn't have a chance against him." Or if I see a smaller man I think , "I could take him." I feel like an animal. I see a brawny guy and I imagine his fist bashing into my face. I think about the bruises after, the disfiguration. No, It doesn't make my panties wet. It makes me want to lock myself in the bathroom and find something sharp. I don't think I'm ready for "rape play." I've got the boi all worked up thinking we're going to play hard. I want to play hard. It's just that the reality and fantasy intermix. I think it's possible to play hard, but we (I) have to be careful of the style in which we play. We (I) emotionally can't afford any careless slip ups. But I want us to be fully liberated! I want to feel the freedom I felt before the rape. Just feeling not-fucked up is liberating.

Wed, 31 Jan 2007 01:48:59 GMT

So this is weird for me, but I've only masturbated about three times this whole last month. I feel as if my libido is the same, but when I think of rubbing one out it seems like too much work. * * * (Edited about 1 hour later) NEVERMIND!

Dynamics

Tue, 30 Jan 2007 04:06:38 GMT

The boi does not know about this journal. He sent me flowers and chocolate cherries. In return I purchased a catholic school girl uniform and sent him masturbatory pictures. His note to me nestled among the little red flowers said "For my Pet."

A lot of the time I feel like a have to struggle to maintain my switch status with him rather than fully dive into a pet/Master relationship. I know I am more masochistic than sadistic. But I'm not necessarily sure if I'm more submissive than my boi. For any of you who have seen the film "Lolita" or read the novel, I think we have more of a Lolita/Humbert relationship. I get whatever I want. Flowers, massages, candies.

I can just as easily abandon this for the Mary Kay Laterno/14-year-old boi relationship. I love to dominate him. He is an equally whiney bottom. And I have a hard time controlling my sadistic urges. I don't think I have a lot of skill at topping mostly because I don't have the practice, but I love to see him wince. I wish topping came as naturally as bottoming. Part of me wonders if I should just give in to what seems easiest, but for reasons unknown to me I am reluctant even afraid to give up my power. The "rules" say this is too confusing for couples, but I've kind of decided--fuck it! Whatever works. I'm happy.

Coming Out

Mon, 29 Jan 2007 14:56:29 GMT

So, I failed at the 1-day-fast. The boi said that punishing myself wasn't going to help the starving children.

I came out to one of my vanilla coworkers. He didn't say much, but I felt like a weird-o afterwards, and I think I regret it a little bit. I'll surely regret it if it gets out at work because several people have already expressed their anti-BDSM sentiments. I listened while suppressing my urge to blurt "I LIKE PAIN!" and inform them that BDSM isn't about being fucked up or "dark." I can be about having fun with sex, creativity, and adrenaline.

1 Day Fast

Thu, 25 Jan 2007 13:18:04 GMT

Arg! I looked up "degradation" thinking I was going to find some hot s/m pics and I found a picture of these two starving African children. There were two staggered in the photo. The one in the front wild-eyed and inhuman, so slender he looked like an alien. The one in the back on his/her sad little haunches, face in the dust, perhaps already dead. Terrible! Terrible! And while I go to Starbucks and whine about how I haven't hardly had anything to eat this is happening. I am going to try not eating today. I can't remember what it's like to be hungry.

Also, it reminds me there is REAL degradation out there. It isn't just a masochist playground there. There is real cruelty, real rape, real abuse, and real sorrow.

Farm Boi

Tue, 23 Jan 2007 19:24:28 GMT

Reading another posts has got me thinking about belts. I am wearing the boy’s belt while he’s away. I am wearing our favorite toy. Big thick masculine looking belts and heavy belt buckles are as attractive as the boy himself. If he were an object he’d be a belt—versatile. It definitely is an “all-American” punishing implement. Sure we use canes and such, but no one beats their kids with bamboo around here. It feels almost patriotic to get/give a good beating with a belt. “Johnny! Did you forget to give the pigs their slop again! Get behind that toolshed, boy!” *swish, crack!* When I was younger I read a lot of boy-on-the-farm books. Whenever the boy "got the belt" I'd re-read the passage, and then set aside my book for a jerk-fest. In this fantasy I can't tell if I want to be the boy, the belt weilding abuser, or just watching. I think I enjoy an aspect of each.

A Little Voyeurism Never Hurt Anyone

Fri, 19 Jan 2007 08:09:55 GMT

Oh how I love to watch.

PLAY!

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 20:03:16 GMT

I just wanted to tell you about this cool dream I had before I forget. It was semi-lucid. I dreamed that I went to meet this sub-girl/lady. She was in her mid thirties, but GORGEOUS…pale, pink, perfect skin, flushed in all the right places. She wore a cotton candy pink wig that swirled up into a bun. She invited me into her apartment that looked much like ours. She showed me all her various toys and costumes—hilarious. Her s/m equipment looked like clown equipment. Her whips were brightly colored feathers tied to a brightly colored string. Pink, yellow, and pale green costumes that were across between Renaissance floof and circus clown gear. Bizarre, but so sexually charged.

Anyway...I realized I need to STOP being so fucking ANGSTY about s/m and start being more playful. I am getting giddy waiting for the toy to come home. 1 more month.

I heart pain.

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 05:16:21 GMT

I often wonder: why do I like pain? Is there something deeply wrong with me? Did something go wrong in one of the Freudian stages of my childhood? Am I wicked and depraved? Is it an expression of self-hatred? A response to a violent and hateful world?

The conclusion I came to is this: I’m just bored.